Tiberius' Torment:

[Octiovus]

[All knowledge in this post is OOC unless disclosed in character.]

Nostalgia. They say the word comes from the pain you feel in an old wound. Well, Tiberius was certainly starting to feel old - and he had more than his share of wounds.

Back in the Baron's service, yet again. Outwardly things were the same as they always had been: troubles with Vesper; the Baron's excesses; drinking and drilling. Even many of the old faces were back - Ahmed, Kas, Gimbly, it was just like old times. Old times?

Internally, something had shifted. Another stint in the Colonies had given him time to reflect - maybe too much time. It wasn't the old faces that concerned him anymore. It was the new faces. He was surrounded by the up and coming, the newly minted, the bright eyed and bushy tailed. But how could they know what a life time of soldiering was really about? For years Cove had been in relative peace. Would they really have it in them when their mettle was tested? A strange uneasiness began to follow him wherever he went, as much as he tried to push it to the back of his mind he couldn't quite shake it.

***

It was a Sunday much like any other. Cove and Yew were once again moving towards alliance; it made sense really. The bonds of the Avatarian Church were hard to break, even if the royalist question could sometimes fray them. It wasn't Tiberius' first time back in Yew since he returned, but the location of the joint training exercise inexplicably set him on edge. The East Post. He closed his eyes for a second, and the world faded away. In his mind's eye he was transported to the top of the East Post, overlooking the surrounding lands. A lone Samurai worked the rice fields in the near distance to the north east. To the south, a small plume of smoke indicated that the Shirefolk were lighting the gentle fires of their hearths. Dead north in a idyllic meadow was Tel'mar, home to the Tel'marian Mercenary Company - a tight band of the finest mercenaries around, who Tiberius was proud to call his brothers. And further north still, in the crypts not far from the Justice Shrine the restless dead roamed endlessly. They were the very embodiment of terror and evil, conspiring with their allies who dwelt deep in the mountains to the south of the Shirefolk: the Orcs of Tologal. Reports had been filed. They were on there way. It was up to the Tel'marian mercenaries to stop them...

He jolted back to reality, his eyes flitting open. "Everyone understand the rules!?" Radek barked as the assembled Covians and Yewish stood crowded in Stonekeep. Must have dozed off for a second.  Without hesitation, he followed his team to the East Post, and swiftly the war games got underway. A large team of Covians and Yewians attacked the hastily assembled barricades as Tiberius defended the front of the post, knocking one of the attackers quickly off his feet. "Heh. Still got it!" he mused to himself, but others stepped over their downed teammate, and a Corsair caught his helmeted head with a hammer pick. The noise of steel hitting his helmet disorientated him, ringing in his ears as his vision blurred again. The scene before him melted away - a different scene entirely replaced it.

***

"HERE THEY COME LADS!" The war cries of Orcs intermingled with the creaking and chittering of bones as the alliance of evil broke from the inky treeline, charging straight at the defenders of the East Post. Tiberius gripped his sword and shield tightly, grimacing at what was to come. All around was screaming and the clash of steel on steel. Samurai fought Orc, mercenaries went toe to toe with the living dead. An Orc attempted to enter the post, and in one well practised movement Tiberius cut him down. It was probably just a Snaga - a newly birthed one. But behind the Orc was a flutter of a cloak, a darting shadow who took the opportunity to make his way into the outpost. Before he knew it, the figure had made its way half up the stairs with inhumane speed and launched itself onto the unprepared mercenary, bowling Tiberius straight over. His heart raced as he grasped  for his sword, which had flung itself far across the room. Above him were the glowing red eye sockets of the darkly dressed skeleton, its blade tipped with the deadliest poison, its movements unnatural and jarring. Tiberius recognised the skinless face - it was Valas Do'Urden, legendary skeletal assassin, and he had come to claim another victim.

Tiberius raised his shield more in vain hope than with any expectation that he'd survive this. "Foolissshh mortal!" the skeleton announced in a disembodied voice, preparing for the final blow. As it moved into strike, its ribcage suddenly exploded outwards, shards of bone showering Tiberius as an axe burst through. The skeleton attempted to turn, but simply came crashing to the ground as a piercing demonic shriek emitted from its skull, which fell promptly to the ground and shattered. Unhelmed and grinning was the welcoming face of Ryan Greystone, offering Tib a hand. "Got him!" he announced jovially. In the distance shouts could be heard. "Victorrrryyyy! VICTORRRRRY!" Tel'mar had thwarted the forces of evil once again.

***

"Victorrrryyyy! VICTORRRRRY!" Tiberius was pulled to his feet. "We've won the training, sah!!" a recruit stared somewhat concernedly at Tiberius. The Senior took his helmet off and mopped his brow, nodding. "Aye, good show Greystone.."

"Eh?" replied the bemused recruit.

"Oh ah.. nothing recruit. Good job."

[Octiovus]

[All knowledge in this post is OOC unless disclosed in character.]

[Part 2: In the Hall of the Mountain King]

Nothing like a drink to help you forget. Except when it makes you remember.

Tiberius eyed the label on the ale bottle. Kaldorian. As he did so, he felt a bead of sweat on his brow. He tried to repress the building feeling, but with each swig a dull noise in the back of his head got a little louder. It was happening *again*.

***

The din of the packed tavern started to fade away, he closed his eyes for a second, and he was suddenly scrabbling with all speed to stack crates in the blazing heat of the dense jungle fort. "They are coming, they are coming!" screamed a panicking recruit. Commander Gregor Eason barked from behind "HOLD THE LINE!" Tiberius' brow was drenched in sweat. Avatar's balls, this jungle was hot.

A collection of guttural noises and shrieks intermingled with war cries could be heard somewhere nearby in the dense foliage. The recruit suddenly went unnaturally pale, hit by some form of dark magic, writhing on the spot. Green against green was hard to pick out, but there were shapes in the undergrowth all right. "Steady, men! Steady!" Explosions rocked closeby, dust and earth flew all over Tiberius' armour. Arrows were loosed. Cove's Kaldorian Line defences were breaking under the frenzied assault. The Covian Militia were utterly outmatched; a bunch of raw recruits against the might of battle hardened savages, replete with knowledge of the dark arts. "FALL BACK! FALL BACK! THE BATTLE IS LOST!" Corpses lay all around, the militia was in full rout. Tiberius started to run, tripping on thick roots and dense leaves of the jungle floor. Screams could be heard behind him as the Kaldorians used their knowledge of the area to full advantage. To his left, he caught a glimpse of Commander Eason going to toe to toe with one of the huge barbarians, mace clashing against claymore. It was the last he saw of him that day.

***

He was back in the tavern. By all accounts, it was a classic night of Vesperian drama. First, Ting was entertaining and infuriating the whole place in equal measure with his drunken antics. Towers of ale, vomiting, stripping. Just what you'd expect in the Swaggers. The Kaldorian barmaid turned out to be quite a laugh, actually. Tiberius relaxed, knocking back more drinks. He started to feel at ease, the warm glow of a drunken haze among friends. Then it was shattered. He startled, there was a clatter of metal against flesh. He didn't see how it started, but Declan knocked the barmaid to the ground. He eyed the downed Kaldorian. Was she dead..?

***

The Kaldorian Line was lost. The Covians had failed, beaten back and ignominiously driven from the jungles. There was nothing stopping the Kaldorians now; they could simply sweep down like locusts and take Cove Town, doing as they liked with its citizens. Riders had been dispatched to all corners of the Baronship. Tiberius anxiously paced, awaiting the muster. The barracks bell rang out, heard for miles around. The assembled crowd began to swell. From Altmere, from Glenmore, from the Colonies; farmers and fishermen that had taken the Baron's shilling and stood in ill-fitting uniforms. They were ready to defend Cove to the last. Tiberius stood atop the barracks steps, looking down at the assembled army - the biggest Cove had ever seen. "DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER!?" he roared. "DEATH TO KALDOR!" came the reply. Tan banners fluttered in the wind by the dozen. It didn't matter that Kaldor had the stronger arms, or that they had the dark forces of necromancy on their side. This was it. Either Cove would live free, or die trying. Tiberius gripped his halberd tightly as the mages opened the portals to Serpent's Hold, the site of the Kaldorian main camp poised to launch its all out assault on Cove.

Line after line of Covians poured through the gates, charging with wild fire in their eyes. The Kaldorians looked up from their tables, caught playing cards and idling in the overconfident pose of victory. "COVIANS, WITH ME!" cried Tiberius as he rushed into the fray, halberd cleaving two unsuspecting Kaldorians cleanly asunder. Before they died, he saw it written large on their faces. Fear. Shoulder to shoulder, the Covians charged, nothing but unyielding love of their country driving them on. Scouts leapt from the shadows. Arcanists blasted spells. Clergymen armed with Avatar's blessing cut down their heathen foes. Tiberius, covered in blood, hacking wildly called out "THEY ARE RUNNING BOYS! THEY ARE RUNNING!"

Fires blazed all around Serpent's Hold. The ground was thick with corpses. Dust and ash fluttered on the wind of an overcast sky. Covian banners were hoisted above what buildings remained standing. Lines of Kaldorian prisoners filed past the Covians, chained together, eyes cast downwards. The Baron appeared atop his horse, grinning to Tiberius. "You've done it, m'lad! We've given them a damn good thrashing!" Cove was saved. But as he looked over the dead Tiberius did wonder, at what cost...?

***

The tavern was emptying. There were only a few souls left, and some Vesperian with putrid breath claiming he was a wolf. Definitely time to get out.

You drink to forget. But can you ever really forget? Would you even want to if you could?